


A Brighter Future

by jeneralreading



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Computer Programming, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeneralreading/pseuds/jeneralreading
Summary: For the last two years of his education, Ben has struggled with feelings of despondency and a general loathing of where his life is heading. He’s currently a third year philosophy student, with the plan to eventually go into law like his father after his undergraduate education is complete. In an act of desperation to feel connected to what he once loved, he signs up for a game design course without fully reading the requirements. Too late, he realizes there’s a programming component to the class, but this ultimately lands him in the path of Sam, a studious freshman who has already accumulated a wealth of experience in programming video games.
Relationships: Marshall Law/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	A Brighter Future

Ben blinked his bleary eyes open as the loud chirp of his alarm blared from his phone. He groaned and rubbed his temples, attempting to ward off the familiar ache that followed a night filled with alcohol and women he barely knew. He forced himself off his bed and shuffled across the room to his desk, where his phone sat happily screaming his wake-up alarm in increasingly louder swells of chimes. He quieted it with a swipe, then swept his long, tangled raven locks from his face before dragging himself towards his bathroom.

He was fortunate to have his own dorm room with a private bathroom attached, the perk of being the son of a wealthy alumni coupled with his seniority. The last two years spent in the once-lavish mansion of his previous fraternity never provided him with the moments of privacy and solitude he sometimes craved. He’d been forcibly removed from the fraternity for prioritizing drinking and parties over any of his other duties, to which his father reacted with seething disappointment. For Ben, it was a relief. He’d joined the fraternity at his father’s insistence, but he never really felt at home there.

The only portion of his fraternity life for which he was grateful was meeting his friends, Chester and Ian. They provided him a steady flow of parties that fueled his descent into alcoholism, which kept his darker thoughts at bay. They were just fun to be around, and with Dean and Collin off at their own universities far away, Ben was desperate for any level of companionship.

Ben tumbled through the shower, his movements lethargic as the lingering effects of alcohol slowly drained from his body. The driving water pounding his upper back and neck served to massage away his tightened shoulders and pounding headache. After dwelling in the soothing, warm torrent for a time, Ben remembered this semester’s classes did, in fact, start this morning, and rushed through the rest of his daily grooming rituals.

With damp hair brushing against his clean, black zip-up hoodie, Ben made his way to his dorm room’s entrance. He slipped on the pair of Vans he left tucked in the corner by the door, then snatched his backpack from a nearby hook before rushing out into the hallway beyond. He slid his phone from his jeans pocket as his door loudly latched closed behind him. The time was eight fifty, and his first philosophy class of the semester started at nine. Ben hurried himself along, more out of anxiety for the teacher’s feelings should he arrive late as opposed to any sort of excitement about the class itself.

The tree-lined paths of the main portion of campus were choked with students of all ages rushing in every direction. Most had their phones glued to their faces as they figured out the locations and times of their first classes, Ben included. His destination was on the other side of campus. Most of the philosophy classes, including his first this morning, were held in a cluster of older buildings on the opposite end of where his dorm stood. He hurried himself along, darting around students standing still in the path before him, completely lost and attempting to find their bearings. Normally, he’d stop to help them, but he was determined to make it on time to his first class. He felt a sting of guilt as he passed each lost soul, and shot them apologetic looks if their gazes crossed.

With seconds to spare, he burst into his philosophy classroom and was greeted with a mixture of familiar faces. He recognized most of the people in his class, given that they were all in the same major and generally the same year as well, but he’d never really established any deep relationships with any of them. He knew it was mostly due to the fact that his heart really wasn’t in it. He was here for his father, to eventually follow in his footsteps and obtain a law degree. He suspected the rest of his peers didn’t share his motivations for their own major choice, and so he avoided the awkward conversation by keeping to himself, for the most part.

The class itself failed to grab his attention as the lecturer introduced them to the topics they would discuss throughout the semester, and Ben found the same with the rest of his philosophy classes as the first week of his junior year dragged on. More classes with more subjects he couldn’t bring himself to care about. He nearly gave up and decided to skip entirely, except for the shining light at the end of his week. His game design class on Fridays.

He’d excitedly found the class in the course catalog this year and immediately signed up for it. He couldn’t remember seeing it available during any of his previous semesters, which caused him to leap at the chance to take it before it disappeared again. It was his only Friday class, and an additional bonus was that it took place in the late morning, giving him ample amount of time to recover from any Thursday night shenanigans.

Friday morning arrived with that familiar aching in his head and slight nausea that followed a night of drinking. He stirred slightly, causing his hand to brush against the bare skin of a woman snoozing beside him. He instantly recoiled, forgetting for a moment that he’d brought a girl back to his room from the party the night before. He wracked his addled memory for her name, but it slipped away between blurred visions of a thrumming house party and clips of their intimacy just hours ago. He shrugged off the lapse in memory and instead wrapped his arms around her torso and buried his face into her chocolate curls, to which clung the smell of cigarette smoke. His movement seemed to rouse her as she stirred and slowly sat up, the sheets tumbling away to reveal her naked body.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” she said as she flung the rest of the covers off the bed and leapt onto the floor. Ben shrugged and watched with a frown as she swept her clothes from the ground and frantically began pulling them on. Her messy hair and make-up, coupled with her wrinkled, tight-fitting dress were a slightly comical sight to behold. He contemplated offering her a spare pair of his jeans and a t-shirt, but he lost the chance as she dug her phone from her purse and swore at the time.

“Oh fuck, I have class in literally twenty minutes,” she hissed as she jammed her hands through her thick overcoat. She glanced Ben’s way, her frantic eyes apologetic as she met his gaze. “Sorry for ducking out first thing in the morning, but thanks for the fun last night. We should do it again sometime.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously, before turning and hurrying out the door. Ben sighed heavily as he watched the door latch closed, then shoved himself out of bed to ensure it was locked behind her. While he always enjoyed the nights spent in the company of a woman, he often found that he wanted so much more than they wanted to give. He easily scored a tumble in the sheets with his good looks and charisma, but they always seemed to leave shortly after. As if he were really only good for the sex that he offered. It bothered him immensely, but his desire to please people, even those he just met, overwhelmed his need for a deeper romantic connection.

 _Maybe that’s just what women want, a quick hook-up with no strings attached_ , he thought dejectedly to himself as he ran through his morning routine. His hair seemed less interested in cooperating than normal, so he pulled it into a messy bun to keep his wavy, ebony locks from overtaking his face. He found himself wishing that just once, he’d find someone that was more interested in who he was than what he could offer them as he slipped on his shoes and made his way out the door.

His queasy stomach reminded him to snag a bite to eat, and so he made his way to one of his favorite cafes for a pastry and warm cup of coffee. It was just a couple blocks from his dorm and was owned by a kind old man with whom he’d become acquainted as he became a regular patron over the last two years of his education. The owner greeted him with a nod and a smile as he shoved open the heavy wooden door, the attached bell tinkling to announce his entrance.

“Morning Arnold,” said Ben with a smile as he approached the counter. “How are you doing today?”

“Much the same Ben,” the man chuckled in response, his smile lifting the wrinkles around his eyes. “Have you been alright? This is the first time I’ve seen you this semester, I was starting to get worried.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been busy, first week of classes and all.” Ben sheepishly stared at the ground, realizing that he’d been skipping breakfast unconsciously throughout the week in the haze of his despondence in regards to his classes.

“Sure,” said Arnold as his face fell a little, the hint of concern lining his gaze. “Well, make sure you remember to stop by more often, yeah? You look like you’ve already lost a little bit of weight since the last time I saw you.”

Ben glanced down at his frame, and with astonishment, realized Arnold may be right. His jeans seemed to hang a little looser around his legs. His shirt, which was typically well fitted to his frame, had some give where it didn’t before.

“Could I get a latte and a croissant?” said Ben, slightly embarrassed and more than slightly alarmed at his lack of attention to his own health.

“Sure,” said Arnold. “Anything else? How about you take a bagel? It’s on the house.”

“Oh Arnold I can’t,” Ben started, but Arnold cut him off with a wave of his knotted hand.

“Ben, I insist,” he said, and his gaze told Ben that it would be impossible to refuse. With a sigh, Ben nodded and accepted Arnold’s kindness, though it pained him to impose on another.

“Everything’ll be ready in just a second, just hang by the counter for a bit,” said Arnold as he deftly worked the coffee machines behind the counter. With a hiss, the machine steamed the milk for Ben’s coffee as Arnold switched on the espresso maker. Arnold combined the two with a flourish, forming a frothy leaf on top of Ben’s latte before placing it carefully before him. The croissant and bagel soon followed, the bagel accompanied by a generous dollop of cream cheese. Ben thanked him profusely, then headed to his favorite table near the back of the shop.

As he munched happily on breakfast, occasionally sipping from the steaming mug of coffee, Ben checked his phone. Nothing from his friends, and he must not have given the girl his number. Either that, or she cared little enough to send him a follow-up text after their tumble in the sheets last night. With a sigh, he set his phone on the table and reached for his bag. He had about an hour before his game design class began, and he could think of nothing better to do to fill the time than sketch. He found his sketchbook and his mechanical pencil and spread them across the table before him. He flipped past his previous artwork, some meticulously crafted and perfected with the paint pens he kept in his dorm. The further he went in the sketch book, the less these finished works appeared. Even though he longed to sketch, he’d been unable to finish much of anything as of late.

He found a blank page following some rough sketches of a feline swordsman and let his mind wander. His pencil seemingly moved on its own as he roughed in a general humanoid form, then proceeded to fill in the details afterwards. Before long, he was putting the finishing flourishes on his pencil sketch, at least for his current session. A swashbuckling alligator grinned up at him, its curved knife buckled at its side accompanied by a ruffled pirate outfit. Ben smiled, feeling somewhat accomplished, then checked the time on his phone. Only twenty minutes remained before his game design course. He jammed the rest of his bagel in his mouth, the croissant having long been devoured, and downed the last dregs of his coffee. With his stomach and creative urges satisfied, Ben swept his belongings into his bag and collected his dirty dishes. He slung his pack over his shoulder and carried the teetering stack of plates and mug to the bin nearby, then hurried towards the exit.

“Thanks for the breakfast Arnold, it was great as always!” called Ben as he placed a hand on the front door.

“Of course Ben, I hope I see you again soon,” said Arnold with a warm smile and a wave. Ben’s chest swelled with happiness as he left and made his way across campus.

He arrived at the classroom a bit earlier than expected and found it empty, save for one woman sitting in the front. She typed away furiously at her laptop, occasionally pausing to jot something down in the notebook beside her. Her chestnut hair fell in messy locks before her face, snagging on her glasses as she remained focused on the screen before her. Ben contemplated taking a seat next to her, but ultimately decided he didn’t want to interrupt her for fear of seeming rude. He ended up taking a seat near the back, and as he extracted his laptop and notebook from his bag, the rest of the class slowly began to file in. The lecturer looked up from her desk at the front, smiling brightly as she watched the seats before her slowly fill.

“Welcome to game design 101,” she said at the top of the hour, her face beaming with a mixture of pride and excitement. “I’m Laura Gillese, and I’m excited to share with you a taste of the magic that is game development.” She pressed a button on the clicker gripped in her hand, advancing the power point behind her to a little bio. “This is my first year teaching at the university. Previously, I worked for an indie game dev studio doing a little bit of everything, from writing code to some amount of artistic design, though I’m not the most talented artist out there.” She chuckled at her quip, and a few of the students politely laughed along with her.

“This class will focus on giving you a taste of a little bit of everything, from small coding assignments to sketching and even some studies on the history of game development itself.” Ben blanched at the thought of having to program. He’d taken this course more for the artistic side of game design without fully reading the description of the course itself, which he imagined might have mentioned something about a programming element. He listened with deepening dread as the lecturer started with some very basic programming concepts, all in a language called C-sharp, which, she explained, was the language used by the game engine Unity.

“And that leads me to your first assignment,” she said with a smile. “Please complete the set of programming problems outlined on our class’s site. The questions should be live within the next five minutes. Please submit both your answers and your code for full credit. Have a great weekend everyone and I’ll see you all next Friday.”

With that, the classroom exploded into a flurry of students shoving their belongings back into their bags and hurrying out the door. The classroom soon became empty as Ben slowly stuffed his laptop and notebook back into his bag. He noticed, however, that one student remained behind. The same woman that was early to class was now eagerly introducing herself to the lecturer. They seemed to be having an animated conversation. The woman smiled, her chocolate irises alight with joy as she continued her quiet discussion with the professor. Ben wondered why she was so eager to talk at length with the professor on the first day, and very nearly waited for her to exit the classroom to ask, when his phone buzzed. It was Chester and Ian, asking him if he was down for a house party this evening. Thoughts of talking to the mysterious student vanished as his mind turned to the blissful oblivion alcohol tended to provide, and he answered their invitation with an enthusiastic yes.

As the weekend ebbed away, Ben attempted in vain to complete the programming assignment provided to him. The first question stumped him for days, and frantic googling only helped so much. He barely completed any of his assignments for his other courses, opting to scrape by with minimal effort partially to provide him more time to complete the programming assignment, and partially because he found himself loathing each philosophy class with each passing day.

He was barely able to make the deadline of Thursday at midnight, his answers horribly formatted and barely working half the time, but he was proud to be able to provide answers at all. He entered the classroom a few minutes early on Friday morning, a spring in his step at the excitement of completing his first programming assignment on his own. As he expected, the mysterious female student was early as well, focused solely on her laptop and the collection of papers before her.

 _I wonder what she’s always working on_ , he thought as he took the same seat he used during the previous lecture. Once the rest of the students filed in, the professor began her lecture with an announcement on their first homework assignment. She had already run them through her submission checking program, and they would be able to see their scores after class. A few muffled groans echoed through the classroom which she waved away.

“You all mostly did fine,” she said, though Ben could have sworn her gaze lingered on him for a moment. She then began a lecture on even more complicated programming paradigms than the previous lecture, and included a brief introduction to how physical forces worked in game engines. At the end of the lesson, she doled out the next assignment, which was yet more programming-oriented problems to solve. She wished them a good weekend, releasing the students from their tether to the classroom. As Ben began to re-pack his bag, she called out to him.

“Ben, could you come see me for a second?” she asked, attempting to flag him down as quietly as possible so that most of the other students didn’t hear. He nodded, his palms beginning to sweat with nervousness as he approached.

“Ben, I reviewed your homework before class this morning, and I really think you should consider dropping this course,” she said calmly, her eyes awash with empathy. “I can tell you’ve never programmed before, and I specifically added a portion about previous experience with programming in the course description because this course will delve into more challenging assignments as the semester goes on.”

“I...I understand,” said Ben, gripping the strap of his backpack. “But this is the only class I’m looking forward to this semester, and even if it’ll be a challenge, I’m willing to try.”

“I do have one other idea,” said the professor as her gaze flicked to the brown-haired female student in the front row. “Sam, could you come over here for a minute?”

“Sure Mrs. Gillese,” chirped the student as her chair scraped beneath her. She appeared moments later beside Ben.

“Sam, this is Ben, he’s in need of a tutor for programming,” explained Mrs. Gillese. “Would you be willing to lend him a hand? I know you’re already very familiar with Unity, and I think it would be a great opportunity for you to deepen your knowledge by teaching someone else.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Sam as she shot Ben a shy smile.

“Nice to meet you Sam, and thanks, I look forward to learning all I can,” said Ben, and he meant it. He extended a hand in her direction, which she took with trembling fingers, sealing their agreement with a flourish.


End file.
